


A Promise

by Sarahbob



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Art, Friendship, Gen, Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:41:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1337464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahbob/pseuds/Sarahbob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Who is she?" Enjolras found himself asking. Grantaire's hand stilled and he was quiet for a moment. When he looked up, Enjolras thought he saw tears shine in his eyes. "My sister," he mumbled soflty, "she's dead." A friendship one-shot between Grantaire and Enjolras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Promise

( _Hi guys! Another one-shot I had lying around, but never had the courage to upload it. It's a Grantaire/Enjolras friendship story. Hope you like!)_

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**A Promise**

It was nearing midnight when Enjolras finally collected his books and papers and decided it was time to return home. He had been working for hours on end today and he'd really made some progress. They didn't have a meeting that night, so the backroom of the Café wasn't as crowded as it was when the group of students occupied the space until late in the evening. There was merely a handful of people there at the beginning of the night, who mostly just came for some quiet discussion or a friendly glass of wine.

Enjolras usually went there to work on his plans – even when there wasn't a meeting – and Courfeyrac and Combeferre often accompanied him. Just as they had been doing tonight. But they had returned home some time ago, as did the few other people gathered there, except for Grantaire. Of course, Grantaire was there until the owner of the Café threw him out, or sometimes he'd just stay the night.

Enjolras shoved his stuff in his bag and stifled a yawn. He was tired. He had been working for quite some time now, not wanting to stop when he got in the right flow, and sleep had not been one of his priorities for the past few days. Combeferre wasn't happy about it, but he knew not to push his friend when he was in the middle of some sort of breakthrough, as Enjolras liked to call it. Whether that breakthrough concerned their revolutionary plans, writing an important speech or working on his studies. Combeferre usually gave his younger friend a good few days until it was obvious that Enjolras was too tired to put up a real argument. And when that time came, the medical student made his move and forced the blond to get some rest.

Enjolras drank the last of the cold coffee that was left in his mug and extinguished the candle on his table. When he stood from his chair and turned around, he realized the backroom was entirely empty except for the dark figure huddled in his usual corner. Enjolras frowned. He was surprised to see that everybody had already left. Apparently he had been working longer than he intended to. He vaguely remembered promising Combeferre that he'd be home around eleven when his oldest friend announced his leave. Ah well, it wasn't as if it was the first time this happened and Enjolras was sure that Combeferre wasn't surprised. Displeased, maybe, but not surprised.

Just as he slung his bag on his shoulder and moved towards the stairs to leave, his eyes again came to rest upon his cynical friend in the corner. Enjolras let out a small sigh. He and Grantaire had been fighting more and more lately and it weighed heavily on the young revolutionary. There was a time when they actually got along, though Enjolras always hated his friend's alcohol abuse, but at one point something happened of which Enjolras had no idea what it was, and Grantaire changed. He was bitter and sarcastic and even though he had never been a big fan of Enjolras' future ideals, he now bashed them all shamelessly to the ground and tried to provoke the younger blond into an argument whenever he could by mocking his words and acting like an idiot. Of course Enjolras wasn't too shy to tell Grantaire exactly what he thought of the drunkard, careful not to sugarcoat any of it. He often didn't realize that his words could cut very deep until either Combeferre or Courfeyrac chastised him for it.

But though they had grown distant in the past few months, Enjolras couldn't deny that he still cared for Grantaire and he was still worried whenever the older man had drank himself in another stupor. With a deep sigh, Enjolras turned away from the stairs and walked towards the corner. If the two of them were the last ones in the backroom and Enjolras was going home anyway, he might as well take Grantaire with him and drop the drunkard off at his own place. From the other side of the room it looked as if Grantaire had been sleeping on top of the table with his head buried between his arms, but now that Enjolras came closer he noticed that Grantaire was actually bowed over some papers and working fervently on another one. His fingers were shaking violently but that didn't stop Grantaire from moving his pencil over the paper in quick, fluid strokes. Enjolras couldn't see what his friend was working on, but apparently Grantaire was so focused on his work that he didn't even realize Enjolras was standing in front of him until the young blond cleared his throat.

When he looked up, Enjolras had difficulty not to gasp at the sight that met him. Grantaire's face was almost ashen and his eyes were bloodshot. There was sweat on his forehead and his dark curls were a greasy mess. When Grantaire looked up at him, he gave the blond a shaky smile. He put down the pencil and reached for his mug on the table. Just before he could, however, Enjolras grabbed his arm with one hand and the mug with the other.

"I think you've had enough to drink, Grantaire," Enjolras said quietly, not fully able to keep the resentment out of his voice. "It's near closing time, we should go. I'll walk you to your place and you can sleep it off."

Grantaire glared at Enjolras and pulled his arm free from the leader's hold. "I'm not drunk. And I'm not going anywhere. Not yet." He huffed at the skeptical look Enjolras gave him and turned back to his drawings. He wasn't in the mood for Enjolras' reprimands. Not today.

Enjolras raised one eyebrow at Grantaire's statement and brought the mug he held to his nose. It didn't smell like alcohol… He took a sip and frowned when he realized it was just water. Since when was Grantaire drinking water on a Friday night? Enjolras looked back at Grantaire and examined his cynical friend closely. He really didn't look good, but he didn't look drunk either. He actually looked sick and Enjolras felt a strange pang of worry in his heart. He pulled the chair opposite of Grantaire from under the table and sat down.

Grantaire let out a frustrated sigh and dropped his pencil again. "What do you want, Enjolras?"

The angry look Grantaire gave Enjolras might have scared most men away, but the young revolutionary didn't back down easily. He just stared back at Grantaire and gave him back his mug. Grantaire chuckled darkly and downed the water in one large gulp. Then, as if to emphasize the fact that Enjolras had been wrong, he reached under the table for the bottle of water and refilled the mug. When he looked up, Enjolras was still staring at him and it made Grantaire feel a little uncomfortable. "What do you want, Enjolras? You were about to go home, weren't you? What's stopping you?"

"Are you feeling okay?" Enjolras asked, not giving any indication that he had even heard Grantaire. "You don't look good…"

Grantaire huffed and looked away from the person he admired most. "I'm fine. What's it to you anyway."

Enjolras frowned. "Just because you wish to argue with me all the time doesn't mean I don't care about your wellbeing Grantaire." _We used to be friends_ , he added bitterly in his head.

Grantaire just snorted, but didn't say anything. He was actually kind of grateful that Enjolras was sitting with him right now. He had had a very rough day and every kind of distraction was welcome. But instead of talking to the other man, he picked up his pencil again and resumed his work. He had been drawing all day, just to get his mind of things. His sketches were scattered around the table and on the floor. The drawing he was working on now, was going to be the last one of the day. As soon as the clock stroke twelve he would drown his sorrow in the first bottle of alcohol he came across.

Enjolras remained silent for a while, wondering if he should just go and leave Grantaire to his work. But he was soon mesmerized by the way Grantaire's talented hand moved across the paper and he narrowed his eyes to try and see what the other man was working on. It was a woman. A young girl, with pitch black hair and dark, kind eyes. She looked vaguely familiar to Enjolras although he had no idea who she was. Maybe he had seen her around the Café or something.

"Who is she?" Enjolras found himself asking.

Grantaire's hand stilled and he remained quiet for a moment. When he looked up, Enjolras thought he saw tears shine in his eyes. "My sister," he mumbled quietly.

 _So that's why she looks familiar_ , Enjolras thought and he nodded. "She looks like you," he said kindly.

"She's dead," Grantaire stated bluntly and his eyes widened for a moment when he realized what he had said. He quickly looked away. He hadn't meant to say that. It was none of Enjolras' business. And he didn't want to talk about it anyway.

Enjolras stared at Grantaire in shock and was momentarily at a loss for words. He swallowed and bit his lip. "I'm sorry, R…"

The use of his nickname, which Enjolras hadn't used in months, and the gentle tone of his voice made Grantaire look up again. He felt a small blush creep up his cheeks when he noticed the honest compassion and concern in Enjolras' eyes. He shook his head and smiled shyly at the blond. "It's alright, you didn't know."

Enjolras smiled back and for the first time in a very long time he felt like he was talking to the Grantaire he had known for such a long time. "It's a beautiful sketch."

Grantaire's blush deepened and he looked down at the drawing. "She was beautiful," he whispered sadly. "And rebellious, she was all about the women's rights, you know… I think you would've liked her." He grinned at Enjolras, whose smile widened in return.

"I'm sure… It's a shame I never got to meet her then," Enjolras said kindly. His smile faded when he saw a flash of pain in Grantaire's eyes. He was just in time to prevent the mug from falling out of Grantaire's hands and ruining every sketch on the table. Grantaire groaned miserably and pressed both his hands against his head.

"R, you're sick, you need to go home and rest. I'll have Combeferre take a look at you if you want…?" Enjolras said worriedly as he got to his feet and reached out to squeeze Grantaire's shoulder. It was an automatic gesture, but it surprised Grantaire nonetheless. He wasn't used to have Enjolras care for him anymore. But it felt nice and familiar and Grantaire covered Enjolras' hand with his own, squeezing it back.

"I'm not sick… Really Apollo, I'm not, trust me," Grantaire mumbled shakily. "I just need to hang on for another fifteen minutes and then I'll be okay. I promise."

Enjolras frowned. "In fifteen minutes? Why in fifteen minutes? What's going to happen then?"

Grantaire chuckled, but there was no happiness in it whatsoever. "Because as soon as it's midnight, I can drink again." He spoke the words softly, fearing that Enjolras would be disappointed. But when he looked up, he only saw confusion in his leader's eyes.

 _Alcohol withdrawal_ , Enjolras thought. But why? Why would Grantaire have to wait until midnight to have a drink. And how long had he gone without? Enjolras didn't understand and the confusion must have showed on his face, because Grantaire laughed again and explained.

"Today is my sister's birthday…" he began quietly, closing his eyes and willing the burning tears away. "She hated the fact that I always drank so much. She always begged me to cut back. But I couldn't', as you very well know. Then one day, four years ago, on her birthday, I showed up sober and she was so proud. From that day on I decided to never drink on her birthday. Then at least I would be able to make her happy one day of the year. I kept that promise after she died two years ago…"

Enjolras closed his eyes in quiet understanding and he tightened his hold on the drunkards shoulder. Even though he hated Grantaire's drinking as well, he couldn't help but admire and respect the promise his cynical friend had made to himself. And he was proud that Grantaire actually kept himself to that promise, even though it obviously made him feel terrible. Enjolras realized it must be extremely hard for his friend to refrain from drinking on his late sister's birthday.

"That's an admirable promise, R," he said quietly, silently wishing that his friend would someday find the courage to quit drinking altogether. "I think she would be proud of you."

Grantaire didn't respond. He wondered if that was indeed so. He himself didn't think anything admirable of it. Out of 365 days, he could only manage to remain sober for one day?

After a few minutes of silence, Enjolras let go of Grantaire's shoulder and started collecting the various sketches and drawings scattered on the table and around the floor. Some of them were hardly anything, others were detailed pictures of men, woman, children or even animals. He had seen Grantaire's drawings before, but he had never really looked at them. They were beautiful. The last paper he picked up from the floor actually took his breath away. He immediately recognized the people that were in it. Combeferre, Courfeyrac and himself, seated at the table sharing a drink and smiling. It was a beautiful picture of the three of them taking some time off from their usually hectic schedule. They looked happy, carefree and Enjolras felt his heart swell at the sight. "When did you draw this one?" he asked quietly.

Grantaire looked up to see which picture Enjolras was talking about and smiled shyly. "Uhm, today actually… When 'Ferre and Courf managed to get your mind off your work for a while. You looked happy and like a regular guy your age who's enjoying the time he spends with his friends."

Enjolras smiled. "Can I have this?"

Grantaire beamed at the fact that his Apollo was actually impressed by something he did and he nodded. "Yes, of course…I… It's nothing special really, but if you want to have it, it's yours."

"You're wrong," Enjolras said matter-of-factly. "It is special. More special than you might realize, 'Taire. This means something to me… A lot, actually… Thank you."

Grantaire quickly looked away again, not really good at handling the kind smile Enjolras offered and the praise he gave him. "You're welcome," he muttered quietly, hiding behind the dark curls that fell in front of his eyes.

Enjolras smile broadened at Grantaire's sudden shyness. It was nearly midnight, only a few more minutes to go. "How about we leave, R? We'll take a walk in the Jardins du Louxembourg like we used to do… I'm sure we'll still be able to get in through our secret passage way."

Grantaire's eyes lit up for a moment, but then he shook his head. "I know what you're trying to do Enjolras… but it's almost midnight and to be honest… I could use a drink." He wished he could give Enjolras what he wanted, he really wished he had the strength, but he didn't. One day was hard enough.

The younger man let out a small sigh and averted his eyes. He had hoped that the idea of the two of them reuniting and doing something they used to do so often would take his mind of the drink, but he wasn't surprised when Grantaire refused. However, Enjolras missed his friend, so he walked towards the bar and pulled out a tiny flask, which he filled with wine. "We'll take this. It's not much, but it's enough to keep you going for another few hours… Allow me some sober time with you as well, R. What do you say?"

Grantaire hesitated for another few moments but the genuine, expectant look Enjolras gave him pushed him over the edge. "I say I don't think Combeferre is going to be pleased with you coming home in the middle of the night."

Enjolras grinned and handed Grantaire his jacket before blowing out the remainder of the candles in the backroom. "I think I'm willing to take the risk. Come on."

And if the next day everything had gone back to the way it was, with Grantaire drunk in the corner and Enjolras annoyed at the cynics comments, then at least they had one good night to look back on in which they had remembered why they were friends and how much they meant to each other.

The End

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_(Hope you liked, please let me know and review :) thanks!)_


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